


Greenfield Park

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: The Summer of '97 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can't stop thinking about that night in the woods..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greenfield Park

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long... I haven't written much at all lately because of my (still unknown) condition with my wrists/hands (unable to type for long periods of time), so this was literally painful to do but I really wanted to get at least a second part of this series up as I had initially intended.  
> And yeah, the next part, whenever that may be, will definitely be written from Dean's POV.  
> Enjoy :)

They travelled back to the house the next morning mostly in silence, other than Dean telling Sam there was some packed food in the cooler in the back seat of the Impala. They ate breakfast on the road, what they were used to. Sam kept glancing over at Dean next to him, golden knuckles wrapped thick around the steering wheel, pursed lips humming to the radio— _the rock station_ , what else. It was like he forgot all about the events of last night. Sam worried momentarily that all the beer Dean had consumed last night actually really _had_ made him forget they friggin _kissed_ , but Dean hadn't been _that_ out of it. He was a little tipsy, at the most. He hadn't even been slurring. He was pretty sure Dean remembered and just shrugged it off because it either didn't mean anything to him, or he had found it gross.

Sam hadn't found it gross. Actually, he kind of enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much. But he didn't know why. Maybe that made him a freak. But he was a freak anyway, so this didn't really make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things.

 

When they pulled up the gravel driveway, Dean cursed under his breath. Dad's large black pickup was sitting there, back in Surrow Heights two days too early.

Just as they got out, John was already pushing out of the screen door, demanding to know where they'd been.

Turns out it was just another excuse for John to get into a fight with Dean. How he wasn't being responsible, how his job wasn't to take his little brother out in the middle of nowhere and stay overnight in some remote part of town (neither Sam nor Dean mentioned it was a forest), his job was to keep him safe. No matter how many times Sam insisted they were together the whole time, Dean was watching his back, John wouldn't listen.

The issue wasn't resolved for the next two days. Sam was lying in bed, listening to the two of them go at it yet again. Dean was insisting he was only looking out for Sam's best interest— _all the kid does is stay cooped up in this place_ —but John said the only reason for that was because Sam "wasn't ready for hunts and they both knew that," and it went on and on. John taking shots at Dean and Dean taking it all with few rebuttals. And tonight John had had a little too much to drink.

A few clatters and bangs could be heard from the hallway.

"Dad..." It was Dean's voice. Another loud _thump_ , right outside his door. Sam's heart raced in his chest. Was Dad hurting him?

"Dad, okay..." The voice was soft and muffled but Sam clearly heard the delicate shake in his older brother's voice.

Then the door to the room opened, and light pooled in. Sam's wide eyes took in Dean's silhouette stumbling past the doorframe. A second later the door was closed and locked, and Dean was leaning up against it, shoulders rising and falling quickly.

"Dean...?" Sam couldn't move, all he managed to do was prop himself up on his elbow and watch as his brother scratched at a spot on his arm and shuffled closer.

"You okay?" Sam asked him quietly.

Dean didn't speak, just nodded a little and walked up to the edge of Sam's bed. Slowly, Sam peeled back the comforter on his bed in silent invitation, and nudged over a little to make room. They shared beds in the motel rooms they'd often rent out, but that was just to sleep and neither of them willingly chose it. Now was different. Sam was offering his presence, his comfort, his warmth.

Dean crawled in willingly, settling down into the pillow immediately and shutting his eyes. Sam felt him trembling a little, felt cold hands wrap around Sam's body and gently pull him in like something to hold on to. Sam's fingers came up to twine in his older brother's hair, lightly scratching. He felt Dean's stuttered breaths against his chest, humid and sporadic. He knew what it felt like now, to be the one giving comfort and not the one receiving it. It felt... foreign. Because Dean was the type to rarely show any kind of weakness, even (or especially) in front of Sam. He had to be strong. For both of them. So this was a first. But being like this, really close like this, Sam's mind cleared and focused only on making his brother feel better. Their bodies twined together like one, soft breathing slowing into sleep.

 

xxx

 

John was following up on some leads he acquired over the past few days, so he was in and out of the house, coming home at night and leaving Dean in charge. As a result of their arguments for the past several days, Sam and Dean weren't allowed to leave the house. John made it perfectly clear when he grunted out an abrupt "stay here" before departing every morning.

After dinner one night, Sam wandered into the shared bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean was making some scribbles on a newspaper article.

Sam swallowed. He didn't know how to really word what he had been feeling ever since the night in the woods, but he knew they should probably talk about it. Because what happened shouldn't have happened at all, and Dean hadn't said anything about it. Sam still felt uneasy about the whole occurrence, mainly because he had enjoyed it and hadn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since it happened.

"Can we... talk?" Sam asked. Now was a good time. Enough time had been put between now and night in the forest. He figured Dean had had time to sleep on it and turn it over in his mind. If he even thought about it at _all,_ that is.

"Sure. What about?" Dean didn't look up from the paper.

Sam's heart raced. "I think you know..."

Dean finally looked up then, stilling the pen in his hand. He shrugged. "Not really."

 _Damn it, why did he have to be so stubborn?_ "That night... in the forest..."

Dean went back to the paper, tapping the pen repetitively. "What about it?" He made another few circles on the article.

Sam sat down and tried to relax a little. This was _Dean_ he was talking to. "I mean, you didn't find it... _weird_?"

Dean's big green eyes searched Sam's for a long moment, then he shrugged. "Nah."

Sam bit back a sigh of relief, eyes darting down.

"Why, did you?" Dean asked him.

"No," Sam said softly, shaking his head.

Dean's wide eyes crinkled up as he flashed Sam an assured smirk. "Good, then nothing to talk about."

"Actually I think that gives us _more_ of a reason to talk about it," Sam replied matter-of-factly.

Dean's shoulders stiffened, jaw clenched. His tone changed, voice going all stern for a second. "No, Sam. It doesn't."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and then got off the bed, leaving the room. So if Dean didn't want to talk about it then fine. So be it. But he knew, somewhere deep down underneath all that older-brother-bravado that Dean had to be feeling the same way he was. He had to.

 

xxx

 

John came back around half past eleven and Sam had fallen asleep in front of the TV watching reruns of _Happy Days_. He had a dream that he told Dean he wanted to kiss him again but got prematurely woken up by the screeching noise the faucet in their shower made. He shrugged the dream off and went to the bedroom, finding Dean still awake, shrouded in a pool of flashing blue, watching something out of the tiny television set they had picked up recently at a yard sale. His feet were kicked up, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed.

Sam settled down in the bed adjacent to Dean's, tried to close his eyes but soon decided he wasn't tired. After a few minutes, he heard the water shut off in the bathroom and the recognizable sound of John shuffling to bed and shutting the door to his bedroom.

Sam perked up. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean was still watching the screen.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, facing Dean. "Do you want to get outta here?"

Dean raised a questioning brow. "Huh?"

"Wanna go out to Greenfield?" Sam whispered hopefully.

"Sam, you crazy? You know Dad doesn't want our asses out of the house, especially not in the middle of the friggin night."

"Come on, who cares? Dad doesn't have to know."

"And if he finds out?" Dean raised his brows.

"I'll tell him the truth, say it was my idea."

Dean contemplated. "Sam..."

"Dean," Sam interrupted. "Forget Dad for one second. What do _you_ want to do?"

Dean shook his head silently. He examined Sam's eyes, squinting to try and read them, then sighed and shut the TV off with the remote, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Let's go."

 

xxx

 

Greenfield Park was only a few minutes away by car, and was a place Sam loved to go often to clear his head or to just take a long bike ride through. Dean parked the impala in the lot and they walked through the forest silently.

When they reached the wide open clearing, they both sat down in the grass. Sam looked up at the vast cloak of night, spreading his palms out in the grass behind him. The air was a bit chilly, but Sam loved it. He sighed, starting to count the stars but then giving up. Tonight, the sky was perfectly clear.

"You like watching them, don't you?" Dean asked softly from beside him. "This is a good spot."

"Yeah..." Sam replied, shoulders relaxed, neck tilted back.

The hum of the night bugs kept up a gentle melody, faint and soothing.

Sam leaned forward, shoulders hunching. "Kind of makes you feel small. Y'know?"

Dean's mouth twitched in agreement. Then, he leaned forward, too. "You should become an astronomer or something. I can totally see you doing something nerdy like that."

Sam smiled wide, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. Then, his smile faded. He plucked at some grass in front of him.

"Yeah, except I can't."

"Sam..."

"Dean, you know as well as I do that we're stuck in this. Hunting things... Trying to find Mom's killer..."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

After a long pause, Sam spoke up again. "I mean, isn't there anything _you_ want to do besides this?"

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched up indifferently. "Not really. I feel... a responsibility now. The things we know..."

Sam shook his head a little, ripping out a few more blades of grass. He felt his eyes begin to water.

"But Sam..." Dean started. "I'm not gonna stop you from doing what you want, you know..."

Sam smirked a little, then scoffed, "Dad will."

Dean slapped an arm around Sam's back, pulling him in. He was warm and sturdy, and Sam slumped against him.

"Well, whatever happens," Dean said. "I got your back."

Sam smiled tightly, pushing against him playfully. "Thanks, Dean..."

Dean rubbed lightly over his shoulder with his thumb. They were so close Sam could feel Dean's breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressing against his shoulder. Without thinking, Sam leaned up and planted a small but definitive kiss right on Dean's warm cheek. He immediately retreated, turning back into his previous position. Dean stilled, the hand on Sam's shoulder now frozen. Sam bit his lower lip absently.

"Why'd you do that?" He heard Dean ask, so faint it was barely a whisper.

"I don't know," he replied simply, fidgeting with the grass again.

After a too long and too silent moment, Sam felt Dean's fingers turning his chin to look at him. Sam's heart stuttered in his chest, his breathing stopped. Dean's face was only inches from his own. Sam could clearly see Dean's lips, almost as still as his own, form the words _do you want to kiss again?_ Like he knew. Knew all along.

Sam couldn't even fathom speech. He could barely breathe. Instead of speaking, he nodded, looking through lidded eyes at Dean's parted lips. He remembered the way they tasted, how soft they were, how smoothly and effortlessly Dean had slid his tongue around in his mouth.

Something was clogging Sam's throat as Dean pulled him in, finally closing what little space that was left between them with a hesitant press of warm lips on lips.

There was no one around, no one daring them to do this, just the two of them and an undeniable desire for closeness and for touch.

Sam pushed himself against Dean, into the kiss, moaning a little when he felt Dean's tongue slide slippery against his own. He couldn't believe what was happening, couldn't believe Dean was actually willing to kiss him like this again. He briefly wondered, with a heavy heart, if Dean was only kissing him for Sam's benefit, because it was what Sam wanted, or if he wanted it for himself. He put that thought out of his head as soon as he considered asking because there was _no way_ he was breaking this up to talk. Not now.

His hand, the one that was resting on Dean's knee, kneaded the jean and caressed the skin underneath with his thumb. He felt Dean cup his neck with outstretched fingers, sliding down his front and resting over his collarbone.

Sam's hand wandered up Dean's inner thigh, hitting the crevice of his groin. Dean absently directed Sam's hand away, twining their fingers together instead.

Dean expertly sucked Sam's lip in his own, and Sam whined desperate in his throat. Impossibly, it felt even better than the first time.

Sam's hand found its way in between Dean's parted legs again and this time he felt the unmistakable hardness underneath the jean. Dean halted his hand immediately and pulled back, eyes darkly narrowing on Sam's.

"We can't..." He said.

"But I thought... I thought you didn't think it was weird..." Sam's expression drooped, his voice shaking a little.

"I don't..." Dean said, and then gently nudged his nose against Sam's until Sam looked up enough so their lips slotted together again.

Sam melted into him again, his hand resuming its position and inching up the inside of Dean's leg once more. It was like an automatic reaction. And there could be no denying that Dean was at least as turned on as he was. When he reached the hard bulge at Dean's groin, he thumbed over it and this time Dean only hovered his hand over Sam's but made no move to stop him. Sam dragged his finger along the thick line of Dean's dick through the material, felt it pulse a little underneath. Dean broke the kiss and let out a high-pitched broken gasp, stifling it in Sam's hair just above his ear. Sam grabbed hold of his thickness, pressed his palm into it and pushed up, then tugged back down. Denim clung to Dean's cock, warmth seeping through onto Sam's hand. Dean was making noises Sam had never heard him make before, hot and humid right in his ear, and it only fueled Sam's determined hand to stroke harder, faster. Dean's head dropped to Sam's neck, quivering mouth breathing unsteadily into Sam's skin.

"Sam, gonna..." Sam thought he heard Dean say, but it sounded the same as his gasps and broken moans.

Sam popped the button on Dean's jeans and pulled back his boxers just in time to wrap his fingers around the throbbing head of Dean's dick and pump it once before Dean lost it. He spilled over Sam's tight fist, gasping and digging shaky fingers into Sam's leg hard enough to leave bruises. White, creamy spurts of come pulsed out over and over, drenching Sam's hand with hot, sticky release. The contrast of Dean's hot breath and warm come against the crisp night air made Sam shiver all the way from his spine to his legs.

When Dean's breathing calmed down and he resurfaced enough to _move_ , they retreated slowly from each other, cool breeze finding its way between them. They searched each other's eyes and Sam knew what Dean was going to say, knew he was probably going to say that could never happen again, should have never happened in the first place, it was _wrong,_ so wrong, but he didn't want to hear any of it.

"We should go..." Dean swallowed, voice still unsteady. "Before Dad realizes we're gone."

He tucked himself back in his pants as Sam wiped his hand off in the grass and then Dean helped Sam to his feet.

They drove back in complete silence. Sam started to say something at one point, but Dean cut him off with a sharp "don't."

Sam wanted to kick something. Okay, so maybe it was too soon to talk. But sooner or later they had to address what the hell was going on here. For one, Sam wanted to know what Dean was thinking. He couldn't keep shutting him out.

Sam hoped things would be different in the morning as he watched Dean crawl into bed and turn on his side, uttering nothing more than a simple _good night_.

Well, even Sam had to admit, that was enough for now.


End file.
